


WIP dump

by madamteatime



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Disney, Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamteatime/pseuds/madamteatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various WIPs that have no hope of ever being finished but hey, might as well throw them up here so they don't get lost in the depths of my computer</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The one where Changmin is a brat

It happens on a sunny morning, when they trudge home after an exhausting overnight shoot. 

The bedroom is too far away so they both collapse on the couch, sunlight slanting across their bodies. Yunho sighs and puts an arm over his eyes.

Casually, Changmin shuffles up the couch until he’s practically in Yunho’s lap and the other man is forced to shift in order to accommodate him. He tilts his head back and looks up at Yunho, puppy-eyed and insistent.

“Hi,” Changmin says.

Yunho laughs softly and drops his arm. “Hi.”

His fingers play with the neck of Changmin’s sweater.

“Carry me to bed,” Changmin says. 

Yunho groans. “No. You’re heavy and I’m tired.”

Changmin whines, shifting around so that he’s straddling Yunho. His lip curls out in a pout.

“Don’t be mean,” he says.

“Don’t be a brat.”

In response Changmin leans down and sinks his teeth in Yunho’s lower lip, a hard, quick nip that turns into a kiss when Yunho smiles and leans into it.

\- - -

In the middle of a photoshoot Changmin leans close to Yunho, practically in his lap, and whispers, “Wow, this is our straightest concept yet.”

Yunho smile becomes strained. “Behave – ” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

Changmin isn’t in the mood to behave.

“Got a cute little dog and everything,” he murmurs, indicating the bulldog sitting between them. 

Yunho stifles a groan. 

“Changminnie please – ” he whispers.

“In the interview I’m going to talk about how we want to adopt him.”

Yunho stops trying to smile for the camera and glares at him. “Will you knock it off?”

“I will if you will,” Changmin replies, because he’s about 8 years old.

Yunho growls low in his throat and grabs Changmin’s collar.

“Oh yes, please let out your pent up sexual frustration on me in public,” Changmin drawls. 

Yunho shoves him away. Alarmed, the dog barks, and Changmin pats him soothingly. 

“It’s okay little buddy,” he coos. “Nice daddy will protect you from crazy daddy.”

Yunho has the gall to look offended. “Wha – that’s not fair,” he protests. 

Changmin ignores him.

“ _I_ want to be nice daddy,” Yunho adds in a small voice, and Changmin looks up at him with a grin.

\- - -

When management tells them to record a second selca video and sends them off with the camera Yunho is at a loss.

They could just stand around and talk about random shit, but that’d probably end up being more awkward than entertaining. He half-heartedly suggests doing a dance practice video, but Changmin gives him one withering look and the idea dies there.

So given that, Yunho isn’t quite sure he finds himself on their living room couch with a beer in one hand and the video camera in the other. Changmin is already on his third beer, and Yunho suspects that this was somehow all his idea.

“We're going to get fired for this,” he says, gaze following the line of Changmin’s neck as he throws his head back and downs another bottle. 

Changmin laughs and flicks his hair out of his eyes. “Relax. Live a little. Don’t be such a goody two-shoes all the time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Conclusion of this WIP by Lliyk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563904)


	2. The one where they experiment with drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remix of an old fic so poor characterisation abounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tw: drug use**

The first time Yunho shows him the tiny bag of white powder Changmin doesn’t quite register what it is. He tries to fix his unsteady gaze on the object and Yunho’s devious smirk, but the amber haze of alcohol makes it difficult to focus. Laughing incredulously, Changmin stumbles across the rug and tumbles into Yunho’s lap, the almost-empty bottle of shochu in his hand sloshing wildly as he wraps an arm around Yunho’s neck.

“That’s not sugar,” Changmin giggles in belated response to Yunho’s question of whether he wanted some. Yunho laughs and watches as Changmin raises the bottle to his mouth, taking a sip before pressing their lips together hungrily. Something had happened for them to end up in this state on Yunho’s couch – one of them had gotten dumped and it had been the other’s fault and Changmin thinks it might have been him but he can’t remember too well right then.

Yunho tastes like alcohol and lime and sweet, unadulterated addiction. He’s flushed when Changmin pulls back and licks lazily at the corner of his mouth, capturing the last drops of moisture. He presses up against the other man and Yunho moans, one hand curling in Changmin’s hair and tightening.

“So do you want to or not?” he purrs hotly into Changmin’s ear. Changmin raises an eyebrow as he finishes the last of the drink and tosses the bottle aside. The soft beat of music thumps somewhere in the background and Changmin’s head.

“I’ve never done that before,” he admits.

“I can show you,” Yunho says, pressing sloppy kisses along the length of Changmin’s neck. Changmin hesitates, but the part of him telling him to say no is quickly silenced by alcohol and burning curiosity. He nods and Yunho slides off the couch, allowing Changmin to topple off him with a surprised sound. He gets on his knees before the coffee table and shakes out a thin line of cocaine onto the mahogany wood before digging in his back pocket for his wallet. Fascinated, Changmin sits up and watches him roll a thousand won note, lower his head and inhale. When he looks up and exhales Changmin giggles nervously and edges closer.

Grinning, Yunho wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him off the couch, his lips finding Changmin’s and kissing him clumsily before pulling back. Yunho’s pupils are blown and he laughs at the look of dazed naivety on Changmin’s face.

“Your turn,” he says, shaking an uneven line of powder onto the table. It takes Changmin two tries to get it right, and at first he thinks it hasn’t worked. He leans back against Yunho and closes his eyes, feels his heart rate increase and groans.

When he opens them again the room tilts dangerously. The rug is soft beneath him and he can smell it. The music seems louder and he can see it, each note hanging momentarily in space before dissolving into the air. Yunho smells like heat and want and he can taste it, thick in his mouth and on his tongue. Between them they empty the bag in three hits each, and after the second hit Changmin stops thinking. He laughs as Yunho’s fingers worm their way under his shirt and falls back against the rug, pulling his hyung down with him.

Colours streak his vision and he has the distinct sensation of flying and Yunho is heavy and so light at the same time. Changmin’s teeth sink into his neck and Yunho cries out and the rug shifts beneath them and the music notes touch their skin and absorb into it, leaving smudged traces of ink behind. Changmin tugs Yunho’s shirt off and makes a pleased sound as the notes make a tattoo of ink across his back. Yunho’s breath is hot and hard against his cheek and Changmin shudders as arousal and ecstasy sear through him. He curls his fingers in Yunho’s back and feels the ink smudge his fingers as their lips fuse together, tasting and starved and needing.

“Fuck me,” Changmin breathes. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. . .”

Yunho growls low in his throat and tears Changmin’s shirt off, nails raking down his chest and Changmin cries out because the pain is beautiful and white hot. Yunho’s fingers burn against his skin as he squirms out of the rest of his clothes and spreads his legs. The rug is soft and hard against Changmin’s back and his head throbs from where he hit it against the floor but he doesn’t care, because this feels fucking fantastic. Yunho is almost too stunning to look at in the dim, multi-coloured light and the music notes glow red now where they touch his skin. Changmin runs his hands over them before hooking his arms around Yunho’s neck and drawing him down. When their lips meet the heat and fury of it shudders through him and he moans, trembling as he writhes between the carpet and Yunho’s body.

“Please Yunho,” Changmin groans when he pulls back.

“Okay, okay. . .” Yunho pants, fumbling with his jeans. Changmin helps him tug the rest of his clothes off and wraps his thighs around Yunho’s waist, rubbing up against him. Yunho groans and pins his wrists down with one hand before slipping two fingers into Changmin’s mouth. They melt against his tongue as Changmin sucks on them and Yunho throws his head back, his moans colouring the air with static arousal. He draws his hand back with some difficulty and Changmin gazes at him through a shock of hair and dark, half-lidded eyes, his lips swollen red and glistening.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” Yunho whispers, and pushes his fingers into Changmin’s body. Changmin arches off the floor and moans at the burn and stretch. He can smell Yunho’s need and it fuels his own. Impatiently, he tugs Yunho’s hand away and lifts his hips. Yunho doesn’t need any more invitation – he hooks one of Changmin’s legs over his shoulder and thrusts into him hard and fast. Changmin cries out, because it hurts, it fucking hurts and it’s amazing and he can see his own pain tearing into him.

Yunho pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, and Changmin’s nails leave deep scratches down his back that sting and start to bleed. Yunho clenches his teeth, cursing as Changmin only laughs and digs his nails in deeper. Changmin can taste blood – he bit the inside of his cheek at some point – and the coppery tang of it bursts red and hot across his tongue. He pulls Yunho down and lets him taste it in his mouth and Yunho moans, his movements rough and desperate. When he hits that spot Changmin knows it’s by mistake, but he doesn’t care because for a moment the pleasure almost makes him pass out.

If this is heaven he wants to die now, with this feeling and Yunho inside him and the music physically absorbing into their skin. Nothing exists but this moment and for an instant Changmin can feel it stretching into eternity, until each particle of his being dissolves and mixes with Yunho’s and the music and the lights. It’s a second of perfection and he is literally having sex with it, and Changmin laughs as that ludicrous thought drifts through his head. His lips leave a streak of red across Yunho’s throat as he kisses and bites his way down his neck. Yunho’s moans reverberate through his body and Changmin arches up into him, his foot curling into the rug as their pace quickens.

“Harder Yunho, fuck me harder,” Changmin whimpers and Yunho growls softly into his ear. His hands clench on Changmin’s hips and moments later he flips them. Changmin cries out as the room shakes and tilts around him before curling his fingers in the rug, spreading his knees and pushing his ass up. Yunho presses down on him and thrusts back in, and this time Changmin can feel him even deeper than before and it’s so fucking intense he’s afraid he might break from it.

He can hear Yunho’s heartbeat against his back as his hands cover Changmin’s, and his teeth sink into Changmin’s shoulder as his hips move harder and faster. Changmin’s vision blurs as he feels another, different high start to take him over. Yunho’s hand wraps around his arousal and strokes him, faster and faster until multicoloured lights explode across Changmin’s vision and he cries out, his release covering Yunho’s fingers and staining the rug beneath them. Yunho grunts as Changmin clenches sporadically around him, managing a few more thrusts before euphoria takes him and he comes too. Shuddering, Changmin lets his arms give out and collapses, Yunho sprawled out on top of him. After a long moment Yunho rolls off him and sits up, running a shaky hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

“Come here,” he says huskily, and Changmin crawls into his lap. The sound of their kisses seems unnaturally loud amidst the roar of colour and the inky scrawls of music notes across their skin.


	3. The one where they fight zombies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavily inspired by The Last of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of missing scenes in this one, I just wrote bits from here and there

The world ends on a Friday, which Changmin thinks is exceptionally unlucky.

He’s alone in the studio reading over some sheet music when a scream from outside makes him jerk in his chair. He pauses, and in the silence that follows an odd sense of foreboding creeps down his spine.

Changmin gets to his feet, sluggishly reaches for the door, and then stumbles as an explosion rips through the building next door.

“What the – ” He runs out into the hallway, sees staff and trainees and other idols pouring into the lobby below, hears the yells of confusion and panic.

Kyuhyun comes skidding down a hallway and Changmin immediately grabs him.

“What’s happeni – ” he starts, but then they’re both staring at the glass doors of the SM building, the doors that a few helpless security guards are trying to barricade.

And on the other side, shuffling forward in a horrible mass of grotesque faces and rotting limbs, is what can only be described as a veritable hoard of zombies. They slam their fists against the doors, again and again and again until the glass cracks and shatters inwards and screams break out across the lobby, people scrambling over each other to get away.

Changmin’s jaw drops open. It feels surreal, as though he’s woken up in a video game where zombies are scrambling over his colleagues, biting into soft flesh and ripping limbs from bodies. Blood splatters across the pristine tiles and his stomach heaves.

Kyuhyun is shaking him. “Changmin move! Run!” He yells, and Changmin jerks into action. They tear towards the emergency exit and take the stairs two at a time, heading for the roof of the building, breath searing in their lungs, the telltale shuffle of death too close behind.

The two of them burst out onto the roof and stare and stare at the scene below them.

The city is in smoking tatters, fires raging across a number of districts and helicopters zooming overhead. And everywhere – _everywhere_ – is the slow, sick shuffle of the infected roaming the streets.

Absurdly, Changmin thinks back to the apocalypse scenario survival plans he would sometimes make him Kyuhyun, at 2am after one too many video games and bottles of wine.

Already this is nothing like them.

“Hey!” Kyuhyun waves his arms at a passing helicopter. “Hey, we’re up here!”

The helicopter starts to turn back their way, but Changmin is still staring down at the city.

 _Yunho,_ he thinks. He’d had the day off – he would be at home – Changmin digs his phone out and stares at it. No reception bars; the phone towers are down.

“No,” he breathes.

“Changmin come on,” Kyuhyun grabs him and starts dragging him towards the helicopter, their ticket to salvation.

But Changmin’s still looking at the ground, frantically searching a city of millions for one.

\- - -

_5 years later_

The zombie makes a run for him and Changmin takes aim, shooting it right between the eyes and watching with satisfaction as it falls. He whips around a corner and shoots another two down, jumping out of the way as a fourth takes a swipe at him. It groans and drools, shuffling forward, and he chops it down with a slice of his machete.

“Too slow Shim! I’m already on 15,” Kyuhyun calls from the other side of the street. He’s crouched behind a row of barrels and taking sniper shots at unsuspecting runners.

Changmin shakes sweaty hair out of his eyes. “Stop hiding and fight them like a man!” he calls.

Over the crest of the hill he sees a fresh wave of infected rise and shuffle down the street towards them. Cursing, Changmin makes a run for Kyuhyun’s barrels and crouches down beside him. Kyuhyun grins.

“What was that about fighting them like a man?” he says.

“Shut up. We’re so fucked,” Changmin pants.

Five years of fighting infected and they’ve never been in a tighter spot. Five years on the run, hiding out in abandoned houses and fighting for their lives every day. The infection had spread like wildfire – Disease X, they were calling it – and within days 80% of South Korea was infected.

That was when the wall went up. The government, in complete disarray, bowed under global pressure to build an impenetrable wall all along the borders of the entire country to stop the infection from spreading. Nobody got in – nobody got out. The military had taken over but were notoriously ruthless, as harsh to uninfected civilians as they were to the infected.

Everything they had ever known was stripped away, the ashes of their civilization left to rot in its own demise.

And in the midst of it Changmin found a a core of stubbornness inside him, a will to fight until he found what he was looking for. Five years they’ve been searching – five years going from city to city, from zombie-infested villages to military-run towns.

_Yunho._

Five years chasing a fool’s dream, the dying hope that Yunho was somewhere out there, still uninfected and searching for him. Changmin knows it’s crazy – he knows it’s selfish to drag Kyuhyun all over the country with him – but somewhere deep in the core of his being he knows Yunho is out there. _I’d know if he was dead,_ he’d explained to Kyuhyun once. _I’d know._

“Got any other genius ideas? ‘Oh let’s go through this town, it looks safe’,” Kyuhyun mimics Changmin’s ill-fated advice a few hours ago. Changmin rolls his eyes.

“Yell at me once we’re out of here, okay?”

He takes a peek around their hideout and spots a line of runners shuffling towards them. Changmin takes aim, trailing the barrel of his run at the front of the pack – then pauses as it goes down, shot through the head from some unknown sources.

As he watches more of them fall, writhing on the ground for a few seconds before going still, their grotesque, half-rotten faces twisting in masks of pain.

“Sniper?” Kyuhyun says.

Changmin scans the street, but the shots are coming from further off – from near the hill. He squints at the horizon.

“What do you reckon? Friend or foe?”

Kyuhyun shrugs. “I’m on whichever side is shooting the zombies.”

“They might mistake us for runners,” Changmin warns.

“We’ll sneak up on them. Take the long route around the edge of the town.”

Changmin nods – it’s a good plan, and much better than staying where they are and being sitting ducks. They wait for an opening, shooting down more infected until a gap opens up and they can dart through. Changmin holsters his gun and draws his machete, their boots pounding across the pavement as they run for the relative cover of the side streets.

“After this is over you owe me a beer,” Kyuhyun mutters from behind him.

Changmin stifles a laugh – he hasn’t had a beer in two years. The last time was when they ran across a group of Starlighters, an underground resistance group that was fighting the military’s oppression and smuggling uninfected across the border. They’d stuck with them for a while but it was hampering their search for Yunho, so eventually they’d parted ways. They were rumored to be headquartered in Busan, but it was possible to find Starlight nests in every major city – you just had to look for the spray painted red stars.

The top of the hill comes into view and Changmin crouches behind a tree. He can see a couple of zombies shuffling around not far away, but they haven’t spotted him yet. Kyuhyun’s close behind, practically breathing down his neck.

“There,” he whispers suddenly.

Changmin follows his line of sight and spots a figure crouched in a tree, eye to his laser sight as he shoots down runners on the street below. How he managed to get up there is a mystery, although he does appear to be tall and well-built. Changmin jerks his head at Kyuhyun.

“Let’s get close enough to talk to him.”

They sneak closer, but a few steps from the sniper’s tree a zombie bursts out from the trees and makes a run at them. Kyuhyun dodges out of the way with a yell and Changmin slashes it down with his machete, kicking the creature’s head and watching with a sick lurch as it separates from its body and rolls away.

More creatures appear through the side streets and Changmin draws his gun again. There’s a shuffle from the tree and then the heavy thump of someone jumping to the ground. A figure comes to stand beside him and Changmin freezes.

_So familiar._

Feeling as though he’s moving in slow motion, Changmin turns to face the mysterious sniper and stares and stares at the one person he’s longed to see for so long he had almost become a fiction of his memory.

“Hyung,” he rasps.

Yunho hasn’t realised it’s him. His brows are drawn together in concentration, guns drawn and muscles bunched as he shoots down zombie after zombie. He glances over – then stops and turns to stare, arms falling to his side.

“Changmin,” he breathes.

The edges of the world fade away. Changmin steps closer, touches his shoulder to make sure he’s really there. His hair is a little long and its natural black, and there’s a scar on his neck that Changmin doesn’t remember.

Yunho’s eyes meet his, the depths of them roiling with shock and emotion.

“Am I dreaming?” Yunho asks, dazed. A hysterical laugh bubbles in Changmin’s throat.

“I hate to break this up but we’ve got company,” Kyuhyun’s urgent voice cuts through their daze and they both jerk into action. It’s odd – it’s been so long since Changmin’s seen him but it feels completely natural to have Yunho beside him, fighting off a zombie hoard together.

Yunho‘s clip runs out and he curses. He’s reloading when a creature runs at him; Changmin turns and shoots it down, adrenalin rushing through him. Like hell he’s letting anything happen to Yunho – not now –

And then through the trees they hear the roar of an engine, and a beat up old jeep comes into view. At its wheel is a maniacally grinning Donghae.

“Donghae!” Kyuhyun cries, running towards the car. They clasp hands.

“Took you long enough,” Yunho says as they all jump in.

“Sorry man – got held up by a bunch of runners.” Donghae looks around at them, his face lighting up when he spots Changmin. “I see you picked up some strays.”

“No time to explain – floor it,” Yunho says.

They skid down the street, the groans of the zombies fading behind them.

\- - -

Changmin stumbles out of the room and paws at Kyuhyun’s shoulder. “I need to talk to you.”

Kyuhyun takes one look at him and jerks his head towards the door. “Come on.”

They lean against the side of the building, hunched in on themselves against the cold. Kyuhyun retrieves a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and lights up, the flare casting strange shadows across his face.

“I kissed hyung,” Changmin says without preamble.

Kyuhyun raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And – did you hear what I said? _I kissed Yunho._ I don’t know what possessed me – I lost my mind for a second and just grabbed him and – ”

“Did he kiss back?” Kyuhyun interrupts.

Changmin pauses, flounders. “Well – yeah.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Changmin deflates like a popped balloon. “It’s just – wrong. Weird. Isn’t it?”

Kyuhyun snorts out a stream of smoke. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. Half the people you knew back then already assumed you guys were fucking. You’re seriously telling me you’ve never thought about it before? That your relationship was always purely platonic?”

“I – no, not exactly,” Changmin hesitates. “There was always something more just below the surface but – we never talked about it, you know? We were always too busy and it was too dangerous. Too taboo.”

Kyuhyun sighs and crushes his cigarette under his boot. “Look, if this had happened before I would have advised you against it. You’re right, it was too dangerous. But look around you. There’s nobody left to condemn you for it. There’s nobody left – period. There’s only me and Donghae and the only thing we’re likely to complain about if you guys get it on is the noise.”

Changmin looks down and scuffs his shoe against the debris of shattered civilization. Kyuhyun’s right – they spend every day fighting for their lives and yet they’ve never been more free to do as they please. The loss of society has meant also losing the censure of society; a strange and liberating silver lining to their post-apocalyptic existence.

The panic melts out of his frame. Changmin straightens and gives his friend a weak smile that Kyuhyun returns with a smirk.

“Honestly if you want him – then take him,” Kyuhyun says. “Life’s never been shorter.”

Changmin nods. He wants to say thanks, but the words get tangled somewhere in his throat. Kyuhyun understands though – he grins and lightly punches Changmin’s shoulder before heading back in.

 - - -

“I missed this,” Yunho says quietly.

“What, being injured?”

Yunho chuckles as Changmin ties off the bandage. “No. You taking care of me. Donghae didn’t make nearly as pretty a nurse.”

Changmin flicks a strand of hair out of his eyes and fights a blush. He packs up the medical kit but stays kneeling in front of Yunho.

“You were always my favorite wounded soldier fantasy,” he says softly, looking down.

“I know. Why do you think I never bothered being more careful? If you hadn’t loved patching me up so much I might not have been so clumsy.”

Changmin snorts. “Nice try, but you’re just naturally a walking disaster.”

He starts to rise but Yunho grabs his hand and yanks him forward. Changmin goes sprawling against him, his hands automatically rising to Yunho’s chest to cushion his fall. Their eyes meet, Changmin surprised, Yunho devious with intent. He smiles and tilts his head.

“At least let me thank you first,” Yunho says. His breath mists in the infinitesimal air between them and Changmin shivers.

“I – ” he starts. He’s not even sure what he wants to say, but whatever inconsequential thing it was gets lost in the press of Yunho’s mouth against his.

\- - -

“Do you ever miss it?” Changmin asks.

Yunho knows what he means: their old life, the screaming fans, the thrill of a concert. He sighs and stares up at the ceiling.

“Yeah. I lived for the stage, you know?”

“I know,” Changmin says. He traces the line of Yunho’s jaw with his finger. “Say we get out and go back to singing. Wouldn’t it feel so inconsequential now, after everything we’ve seen and been through? So unimportant in the grand scheme of things. . .”

Yunho shakes his head and turns towards him. “I think it’d be more important than ever. Bringing hope and happiness to people in a time when we have so little – isn’t that what it was all about?”

“Maybe for you. For me it was always about seeing you happy.”

Yunho’s face softens. He lifts his hand and caresses Changmin’s face with the back of his fingers. “You’re so selfish Changminnie,” he says quietly.

“I am,” Changmin rolls them and pins Yunho under him. “I’m selfish for you.” He leans closer, breath ghosting over Yunho’s lips, voice dropping to a low murmur. “I’d let the whole world burn as long as I had you.”

Yunho breath slows. “Don’t say that,” he whispers, but he allows Changmin to capture his lips in a kiss. It’s hard and rough and a little too intense to be entirely loving.

Changmin’s hand creeps into Yunho’s hair and clenches there as he bruises his mouth with kisses. There are things he can’t express in words, things that only the hard press of his body against Yunho’s can convey for him. Yunho makes a soft sound and opens for him, his hands clutching at Changmin and sliding up his back.

Changmin pulls away and licks up the trail of saliva connecting their mouths. Yunho’s lip is bleeding and he looks dazed but he still smiles up at him.

Changmin wants to burrow into him and brand his skin and bones with his touch. He presses their foreheads together and breathes in Yunho’s air.

“Do you think Seohyun’s right? Are we walking into a trap?” he asks.

“Only one way to find out,” Yunho says.

Changmin squeezes his eyes shut and hunches over him. He knows that if it came down to it, if the choice was between Yunho’s life and finding a cure – he knows Yunho would do it. He’d sacrifice himself for the greater good in an instant; it was his nature. That knowledge twists in Changmin’s gut like a knife, choking him from the inside.

“Hyung,” he starts, voice urgent. Yunho rubs a soothing hand up his arm.

“What is it?” he asks.

Changmin searches his face and knows he can’t say anything that would make a smidgen of difference.

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Kiss me.”

Yunho smiles and rolls them and kisses Changmin into forgiving oblivion.


	4. The one where Yunho is cinderella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My unfinished submission for the Disney anthology. I'm so so sad I couldn't finished this but I think I bit off more than I could chew here.
> 
> **tw: abuse**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again lots of missing scenes, especially between the scene at the ball and Yunho's final letter to Changmin

Sunlight streams in through a tiny attic window, illuminating the figure sprawled out on a narrow, rickety little bed.

He’s tall and broad-shouldered, a youth of nineteen – no longer a boy, but not quite a man yet. He’s clearly outgrown his bed; his feet hang off the edge and one arm dangles over the side. He has messy black hair and is wearing worn but clean old clothes.

A bluebird lands on the windowsill and chirps happily until the figure stirs, rolling onto his side and rubbing his eyes open.

Yunho yawns, then smiles when he sees the bird singing him awake. He whistles back at it and holds out his hand, and the bird hops onto his finger.

“Good morning,” he says to the little visitor, and the bird cheeps back at him.

A distressed squeaking has him looking over the side of his bed, where a fat garden mouse is limping towards him. Yunho gasps.

“Gus! Did you get caught in a mouse trap again?” he asks, reaching down to gently pick up the mouse. The bird hops onto his shoulder and whistles worriedly as he cradles the mouse in his hands. Its back right leg is hanging at a strange angle, and its whiskers tremble in pain as Yunho strokes it with one finger. “You silly thing, I keep telling you not to go into the kitchens! I don’t know why you feel the need when I always bring some dinner for you.”

Tutting and shaking his head, Yunho clambers out of bed and sets the injured mouse down on his worktable. A few other mice emerge and surrounded Gus, squeaking unhappily, and Yunho shoos them away. A second bird flutters onto the windowsill.

“Okay, let’s see now. . .”

Brow furrowed and tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrates, Yunho cleans the wound and wraps a bandage around the mouse’s leg. Then he finds a toothpick, fashions it into a splint and secures it to the broken leg. The bluebird hops off his shoulder and onto the workbench, cheeping up at him while he works. Yunho smiles.

“ _Yunho!_ ”

The ear-splitting screech of his stepbrother Jaejoong shatters the quiet morning calm. Yunho flinches.

“Coming!” he calls, and quickly packs everything away. He tucks Gus into a corner of his bed and places a thimble of water beside him. The birds and a couple of the other mice scamper over. “Keep an eye on him,” Yunho instructs as he rushes out the door and down the attic stairs.

He tucks his shirt into his pants and runs a hand through his hair, desperately trying to make himself somewhat presentable. He’d lost track of the time while attending to Gus and now he’s late, he is going to be in so much trouble –

“You’re late,” Jaejoong snaps as soon as he enters the drawing room. Yunho looks down.

“I – sorry,” he mumbles. He doesn’t offer any explanation – he can hardly announce that he was busy splinting a mouse leg. Knowing his stepbrothers their response would be to sneak rat poison into his room and kill all his little mouse friends.

Junsu, the younger of the two, sniggers. “Look at him,” he sneers. “There’s soot all over his face – were you reading by the fireplace again, princess cinders?”

Yunho rubs at his cheek self-consciously. “Don’t call me that,” he mutters.

A tall, foreboding woman enters the room and frowns at him. “Yunho,” she says. “What are you doing standing around chatting with the boys? Hurry up and bring our breakfast.”

Yunho jolts and quickly heads towards the kitchen doors. “Yes stepmother,” he says. Jaejoong pinches his side as he passes him and Yunho stifles a pained sound.

It’s only after he’s served his step-family that he can scarf down his own breakfast. Then it’s off to sweep the house and scrub the floors – his regular morning chores.

It’s a warm, sunny day and a cool breeze blows in from the windows. Yunho sings while he works, a soft little self-composed ditty, until Jaejoong hears him and tells him to shut up and stop hurting his ears. He really can’t sing, Junsu chimes in, so why does he even try. Jaejoong and Junsu both sing like angels – Yunho can hear them during their music lessons. He leans on his broom and closes his eyes, amazed that such beautiful sounds could emerge from such nasty people.

Things had been different while his father was still alive. His wonderful, brave father – even after he’d married his stepmother and gotten two new sons Yunho had always been his favorite. He remembers his father tucking him in every night and kissing his forehead before he went to sleep. He would tell Yunho that once he got a bit older he would teach him to fight, and ride a horse, and do all the things that the heir of their little barony would be expected to know.

But his father had died in a tragic riding accident only two years after he remarried, and little eight year old Yunho was left with no blood relatives. His stepmother declared that she would be generous, and allow him to keep living with them – but only if he earned his board by doing all the menial chores around the house.

It’s been eleven years since then.

\- - -

Yunho cleans, and while he cleans he dreams. He dreams of running way from home and joining a travelling troupe of circus performers. He dreams of a prince on a white horse sweeping him off his feet and carrying him away to his palace. He invents magical, fantastic stories of flight in his head while sunlight from the window bathes him in light.

“One day,” Yunho mutters, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot on the floor.

“Talking to yourself now?” Jaejoong’s sinister voice speaks in his ear. Yunho jumps and falls backwards on his ass. He looks up and up as Jaejoong towers over him with a smirk. “As if you weren’t enough of a freak already.”

Yunho frowns and pushes himself onto his knees again. “I’m trying to clean,” he says. He grabs for the brush he was using but Jaejoong steps closer and fists a hand in his hair.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you little weirdo,” he sneers. “It’s unnatural, you know – ”

“Get off me!” Yunho struggles. Jaejoong’s crotch is dangerously close to his face now and his eyes widen in panic.

Once, when he was thirteen, Jaejoong and Junsu snuck into his room late at night, and Junsu held him down while Jaejoong taunted him about how he never showed any interest in girls, how he was a freak and a disgusting little pervert who liked watching his stepbrothers play in the yard. Then he had taken his dick out and tried to shove it in Yunho’s mouth.

Yunho had bitten him and then screamed his head off until their stepmother barged into the room and demanded to know what was going on. By then Jaejoong was a groaning, crying mess on the floor, and he and Junsu blamed the whole thing on Yunho.

He’d gotten ten lashes for that night, and the next day he asked to move into the attic. His stepbrothers never snuck into his room again.

Yunho bares his teeth as Jaejoong uses his grip in his hair to drag his face forward. He lashes out, sinking a fist in the other boy’s gut. Jaejoong groans, then flings him back against the floor and kicks his side. All the breath leaves Yunho’s body. He wheezes and rolls to his knees, and Jaejoong kicks him again with his heavy riding boots. Yunho whimpers as pain shrieks through him. Jaejoong kicks him once more, for good measure, then spits in his face.

“Pathetic little freak,” he snarls, and stalks away.

His boots leave muddy footprints all over Yunho’s painstakingly polished floor.

\- - -

Yunho sits on the edge of his narrow little attic bed and smooths healing balm onto the new bruises all along his side. It’s a concoction he’d made himself after experimenting with different herbs – he would sometimes find injured animals in the woods that surrounded the house and bring them up to the attic to nurse back to health, and it had proved useful to know which plants did good and which didn’t. Last time he’d rescued an adorable white cat with a gash in its side – but it had scared all the mice, so he’d had to let it go once it was healed.

Moonlight spills across his bedsheets, the light of a few flickering candles highlighting his naked torso as he rubs the salve into the tender spots. Jaejoong’s boots were heavy and they’d _hurt_ , but Yunho wasn’t entirely unused to the abuse. It was better than Junsu’s insidious, needling taunts – at least with Jaejoong he knew what to expect.

Gus sticks his nose out from the little mouse hole in the corner of the room, whiskers twitching. Yunho smiles, puts the salve aside and goes to crouch beside him.

“Hey little buddy. How’s your leg?” he lifts the mouse onto his hand and examines his leg, pleased to note that the splint appears to be holding up well. Gus nuzzles into his palm and Yunho carries him to his bed. A couple of the other mice follow him out and Yunho smiles as they all climb onto the bed with him.

“One day,” he tells them softly. “I’m going to get out of here. I’m going to leave and never look back.”

The mice squeak at him and he grins.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you all with me!”

That night when he sleeps he dreams of flight.

\- - -

Yunho heads out early the next morning, wrapped in his heavy winter cloak with a basket over one arm.

His stepmother had demanded an apple pie for dinner and he’s been dispatched to go apple picking, though thankfully their cook will handle the actual pie-making part.

It’s an unexpectedly warm day for winter. Yunho shrugs off his cloak at the base of a tree and climbs up, ignoring the twinge of pain from his bruising. He settles himself in the boughs of the tree and munches on an apple. A couple of birds flutter down and chirp at him and he whistles back.

The birds spot the horse before he does. They start chirping loudly and flapping around his head and Yunho looks around.

A brown stallion is tearing through the orchid, its rider bent low over its neck as he spurs it on. He appears to be running from something, because he keeps glancing over his shoulder. He’s tall and slender, a purple cloak wrapped around him and obscuring his face.

As Yunho watches he gallops towards a fence and urges his horse to leap over the obstacle. But he must have miscalculated the jump, because the horse lands badly and goes down, its rider thrown off with a cry.

Yunho is out of the tree before he knows what he’s doing. He slides down in a shower of leaves and runs towards the fallen rider, who is lying in a daze beside his injured horse.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Yunho drops to his knees beside him. The horse is making a racket, screaming in pain and thrashing around, and he’s torn between attending to it and making sure its master is okay.

The purple-cloaked rider groans and rolls to his knees.

“I’m fine – Philip – ” He crawls to his horse and tries to calm it, and under his soothing touch it eventually stops screaming. One of its legs is bloody – possibly broken – and after a second Yunho realises the rider is softly apologising to his horse.

He blinks. The rider looks around, the hood of his cloak falling away to reveal an achingly handsome young man, and Yunho recognises the face of Prince Changmin, eldest and only son of the King of France. There wasn’t a person in the realm who wouldn’t recognise his face – he was on coins, banners, portraits and tapestries in houses across the country. As heir to the throne he was wildly popular and well-loved, having a sweet disposition and stunning good looks.

The prince’s lips quirk up in a small smile that disappears as they hear the distant beat of horse hooves.

“Quick – help me move him,” he says. Together they get Philip the horse on his feet and help him make his limping way towards the stables. Yunho runs ahead and throws the doors open and Changmin leads his horse inside, murmuring soothingly and guiding him to lie down against a bale of hay. Changmin closes the doors behind them just as a group of palace guards ride into the orchid.

“Y-your highness,” Yunho stutters in confusion. Changmin shushes him.

“Quiet, they’ll hear you.” He crouches down and stares out of the keyhole.

Yunho has no idea what just happened but there’s an injured horse behind him, so he goes over to Philip and strokes his neck.

“Hey buddy,” he says softly. The horse neighs and snuffles into his hand. He’s clearly well-trained, holding himself still even when Yunho touches his injured leg to get a better look at it. There’s a deep gash on his front left leg, though thankfully it doesn’t appear to be broken. At worst it’s just a fracture.

Yunho gets up and rummages around for his first aid supplies. He would sometimes treat animals in here that he couldn’t take up to his room – rabbits and dogs, one time even a wolf. He cleans and bandages Philip’s leg carefully, murmuring praises to the horse while he works.

When he looks up Changmin is watching him silently. The prince is tall – taller even than himself – and wearing knee-high riding boots and a blue doublet under his cloak. Yunho gulps and an odd fluttering feeling settles in his gut when Changmin smiles and crouches beside him.

“That’s some good work. Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome your grace,” Yunho says, looking down. The guards appear to have moved on, because Changmin looks relaxed now. He strokes Philip’s neck and produces an apple for the horse to munch on.

Yunho hesitates. “I-if I may ask, your grace. Why were you hiding from the palace guards?”

To his surprise Changmin laughs. “My misguided attempt to run away from home. I suppose I’ll have to go back now that Philip’s injured.”

Yunho stares at him. “But you’re the prince,” he says.

Changmin’s smile turns bitter. “Yes, and with that come rules and expectations that have become a bit too much to bear lately. Don’t you ever wish to be more than what you are?”

Hearing his deepest longings echoed back at him from the lips of a prince stuns Yunho. He nods mutely.

Changmin gives him a curious look. “What’s your name?”

Yunho opens his mouth, but before he can reply the high-pitched screech of Junsu’s voice echoes from the orchid.

“ _Yunho! Where the hell are you?_ ”

Yunho flinches. Changmin raises an eyebrow.

“You’re being summoned Yunho,” he says. Yunho flushes in embarrassment but Changmin’s gaze is kind. “Are you a servant here?”

Yunho nods, then hesitates. “Well, my father owned these lands before he passed away. My stepmother – the Baroness – owns them now.”

“That makes you of noble blood,” Changmin frowns.

Junsu calls him again from outside. Yunho sighs. His situation is too complicated to explain to the prince just now. He gets to his feet.

“You’re welcome to come inside,” he says.

Changmin shakes his head and settles against his horse. “No, it’s fine. I don't want this getting out. I’ll just rest with Philip for a while and then be out of your hair.”

Yunho lingers in the doorway.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he promises before he slips out.

\- - -

Yunho can barely concentrate on serving dinner that night, all his thoughts on Changmin. He almost upsets the plates twice, and earns himself a vicious poke from Jaejoong.

Rubbing his side ruefully, he packs a basket of their leftovers and sneaks out as soon as his stepfamily is occupied with other things. It’s grown dark and a cool breeze ruffles the trees and the edges of his cloak as he enters the stable.

The sight that greets him makes Yunho pause in his tracks. Changmin and Philip are asleep, curled around each other. Changmin is huddled into his cloak, his head resting on the horse’s side and his legs drawn up.

Yunho’s stomach does a funny little flip as he crouches next to him. He touches his shoulder and Changmin jerks awake. He blinks sleepy eyes at him before his lips curve in a smile so sweet it steals Yunho’s breath away.

“Oh. Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” Yunho breathes. He holds up the basket of food and Changmin eagerly digs into it. He’s disarmingly unselfconscious of how he looks – until it hits him a few minutes in that he should be, and he stops chewing with a blush.

“Uh, sorry. I’m just really hungry.”

Yunho laughs and nibbles on the food with him. His image of the prince had always been one of cold, untouchable beauty, an almost unreal paragon of privilege; but the boy in front of him is warm and real and sweet. Crumbs settle at the corner of his mouth as he eats and Yunho unconsciously reaches up a hand to brush them away.

Changmin stills. He eyes lower, watching Yunho’s hand, and Yunho quickly pulls away.

“Forgive me your grace,” he says. Changmin doesn’t look angry that he dared to touch him – more surprised, and perhaps a hint pleased. Or that could just be Yunho’s wishful thinking.

“You can call me Changmin,” the prince says carefully. Yunho blinks at him, and the look lasts long enough to make a blush crawl up his cheeks. He clears his throat and leans back against Philip. The oil lamp flickers between them, and Yunho’s knee brushes against Changmin’s.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

Changmin nods.

“Why did you run away from the palace?”

Changmin sighs and wraps his arms around his knees. “I turn 18 next month and my parents are forcing me to get married.”

“Oh.” Yunho’s heart sinks. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah.”

Silence falls between them. Changmin is staring at the ground lost in thought, one of his hands resting on the ground beside him. Yunho’s gaze zooms in on it; the prince has nice hands, pretty and slender. He gathers his courage and slowly inches his own closer to Changmin’s – but before he can even touch him Changmin sighs and turns to stroke Philip’s neck.

Yunho yanks his hand back like he’s been burned. Changmin gives him a confused look and he clears his throat.

“Uh – you really love your horse don’t you,” he says.

Changmin ducks his head in a shy smile. “I’ve had him since he was a foal. Father said I’d never learn how to run a country if I couldn’t even take care of a horse so he made me do everything for him – feeding, cleaning, training. Philip’s my best friend.”

“That was very wise of the King,” Yunho says, watching as Philip snuffles into Changmin’s shoulder.

Changmin makes a non-committal sound. Their eyes meet, and Yunho notes that the prince has soft brown eyes, wide enough to get lost in.

He doesn’t realise how close they’ve drawn until Changmin blinks and pulls away slowly.

“I should go,” the prince murmurs.

“At least wait out the night. It’s so dark now,” Yunho says. Changmin hesitates, his eyes flickering to Yunho. Their faces are so close Yunho can feel the warmth of his breath as they drift closer, closer –

Philip neighs and paws at the ground, breaking the moment. They reel apart and Yunho watches with disappointment as Changmin gets to his feet.

“He’s not hurt badly but I want to get Philip to the palace vet as soon as possible.” He mounts up and smiles down at Yunho. “Thank you for your help.”

Yunho watches him urge Philip into a slow walk and goes to the stable door to wave them goodbye.

“It was my pleasure,” he murmurs.

\- - -

Yunho spends the next few weeks in a daze, preoccupied by thoughts of Changmin. Their almost-kiss had left him hot and aching. It had been so long since he’d experienced kindness from another person, let alone one so sweet and handsome as the prince. He wonders if he’ll ever see Changmin again, though it seems unlikely.

He’s peeling potatoes in the kitchen one day when there’s a knock at the front door. Yunho hurries to open it, and finds a messenger dressed in royal livery standing on their doorstep.

“An invitation from the palace,” the messenger says solemnly, handing over a letter with the King’s seal on it. Yunho accepts it and thanks him, brow furrowed in curiosity.

Junsu appears over his shoulder and snatches the letter out of his hands. He rips it open and reads it aloud to an interested Jaejoong.

“To the Baroness Jung, you and your family are cordially invited to a ball at the royal palace in celebration of Prince Changmin’s eighteenth birthday, at which the prince will have the honour of choosing his bride.”

Yunho’s heart speeds up. Junsu snorts in derision. “A ball. How dull,” he hands the letter to Jaejoong.

“Sounds like fun,” Jaejoong chortles. “The prince is pretty cute, maybe I’ll do this and that with him before he gets hitched – ”

“Can I go?” Yunho blurts out.

The words are out before he even realises what he’s saying. His stepbrothers turn to look at him slowly.

“You?” Jaejoong wrinkles his nose. “What would you do at a royal ball?”

“I suppose you could help the servants wait on the guests,” Junsu says with a giggle.

Yunho flushes. “It’s addressed to the family,” he points out.

Jaejoong steps closer to him, gets right up in his personal space. “And what makes you think you’re part of this family?” he says softly, gaze malicious.

Yunho swallows. He’s about to let it go when Junsu makes a thoughtful sound.

“Okay,” he says. “You can go. But you’ll have to do extra chores to make up for it. And find something suitable to wear.”

“Really?”

Yunho whole face lights up, mind already racing with how he’s going to put together something for the ball, and misses the sly look his stepbrothers exchange behind his back.

\- - -

Yunho hums as he puts the finishing touches on his doublet. He’d unearthed one of his father’s old outfits, cleaned and tailored it to fit him, and ended up with a surprisingly decent outfit for the ball. It was black and silver, with dark breeches and knee-high boots. The style was a little out of fashion, but it would do.

And of course, the pièce de résistance of the whole get-up: Changmin’s purple cloak, forgotten by the prince when he left that night. Yunho had discovered it in the stables the next day and gathered it close, inhaling the lingering scent of horse and pine. There was no way Changmin could miss him in this cloak, and his stomach does a funny little flip at the thought that he’ll soon see him again.

“ _Yunho!_ ”

A screech from downstairs shatters Yunho’s thoughts and he sighs. Junsu hadn’t been joking about the extra chores; Yunho had been working to hard the last few days he had callouses on his hands and a fresh bruise on his side. Gus crawls out from under his bed and squeaks at him and Yunho gives him a wry smile.

“It’s okay. Changmin’s worth it,” he tells him.

He drags himself to the top of the stairs. “Yes?” he calls down.

“Mother says we’re to leave for the palace in fifteen minutes and if you’re not ready in time you can’t go,” Junsu says.

Yunho gasps. “You told me the ball was tomorrow night!”

“Did I?” Junsu blinks innocent eyes up at him. Yunho wants to throttle him, but he doesn’t have time.

“I’ll be right down!” he calls, disappearing back into his room.

He dresses in a rush, throwing on the outfit as fast as possible. No time to do anything with his hair – Yunho runs a hand through it, pushing it into place, and hopes that’ll be good enough. Finally, he pins Changmin’s cloak into place over his shoulders.

He rushes down the stairs and meets his stepfamily at the door. His stepmother is already in the carriage outside, waiting for them.

“I’m ready,” Yunho pants.

Junsu takes one look at him and bursts out laughing.

“What,” he chortles. “Are you wearing?”

“God, that thing looks _ancient_ ,” Jaejoong sneers, circling Yunho like a vulture. “And what’s with this cloak? Where’d you get something that fancy? Stealing now, are we?”

He tugs at it, ripping it from Yunho’s shoulders, and Yunho gasps.

“Wait – ”

Jaejoong examines the cloak. “A pity to ruin something so pretty,” he smirks, and Yunho realises what he’s going to do a second too late.

“No – please – !”

Jaejoong draws his sword and slashes the cloak in two, right down the middle, the sound of the cloth tearing almost drowned out by Junsu’s squeals of laughter. He tosses the pieces at Yunho’s feet and laughs.

“Stupid. Did you really think we’d take a servant like you to the ball with us?” Jaejoong smirks.

Yunho is too furious, too devastated to articulate anything in response. He kneels down and gathers the tattered cloak in his hands.

“You bastard,” he hisses just as his stepbrothers turn away.

Jaejoong pauses at the door and turns back to him. “What did you say?”

It’s too late to take it back. Yunho scrambles back and lands gracelessly on his ass. He sees Junsu stand in the doorway, blocking his stepmother’s view as Jaejoong strides up to him and kicks him in the stomach, hard. Yunho doubles over and retches, the pain so intense it feels like his head is splitting.

The last thing he registers is the door slamming as they leave.

\- - -

Yunho manages to drag himself up to his room, still clutching the remains of Changmin’s cloak. He collapses across the bed and buries his face in his pillow.

Tears of anger and frustration well up and he finds himself sobbing helplessly. His stepbrothers had always been cruel to him but this had really taken the cake. He had wanted to go to the ball so badly, if only to see Changmin from afar. And the cloak – Changmin’s beautiful cloak –

“Well this is just pathetic.”

Yunho jerks upright with a gasp.

“Who – ” he wipes his face and sniffs. “Who are you? How’d you get in here?”

A man is standing at the foot of his bed, a man who surely couldn’t be human, judging from the slit pupils of his eyes and the sharp teeth revealed by his feral grin. He has bright red hair, a blue tunic and startlingly androgynous features.

“Name’s Heechul,” he says, plonking himself down on the end of Yunho’s bed. “I’m your fairy godmother.”

Yunho gives him a blank look. “What.”

Heechul reaches behind his ear and draws out a long stick. It has a star glowing at the end of it. He waves his wand, and the cloak in Yunho’s hands mends itself, becoming whole and perfect again.

Yunho stares down at it, then back up at the fairy.

“But. . .how?” he whispers.

Heechul waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s not worry about how. Let’s focus on you. Why so upset kitten eyes?”

“I – ” Yunho sighs and looks down, one hand absently stroking the purple velvet across his lap. “I wanted to go the ball tonight. I just wanted to see Changmin again. . .”

“Changmin?”

“The prince,” Yunho clarifies. “We met one afternoon. . .”

“And it was love at first sight?” Heechul smirks.

Yunho flushes and looks down again. It sounds silly if he says it out loud, but Changmin had been exactly what he’d been dreaming of, and the thought of never seeing him again hurts more than he can say. Overwhelmed, Yunho makes a soft sound and covers his face with his hands.

He hears a sigh above him.

“Alright, you’re pretty cute so I’m going to help you get to that ball. You want to get with the prince?” Heechul says. “You’re going to need the right equipment.”

Yunho peeks at him through his fingers. “Equipment?”

“You need to be a girl, sweetcheeks. Prince Changmin won’t be interested in bumbling servant boys with more dreams than sense in their heads – a prince wants a small, dainty princess to be his wife and bear his children. And that’s exactly what I’m going to make you.”

Yunho isn’t sure about the wisdom of that. He gapes at Heechul. “Y-you can do that?”

Heechul gives him an unimpressed look and indicates himself. “Hello, fairy godmother. Don’t let the Prince figure out you’re this dumb.”

“I’m not dumb!” Yunho flares up, but he’s twisting the hem of his shirt as he says it and it ruins some of the effect of his conviction. Heechul snorts and waves his wand carelessly.

“Yeah yeah. Now get over here and let me magic you into someone more appealing.”

Yunho gets to his feet hesitantly. This wasn’t how he pictured himself going to the ball, but Heechul has a point: he’ll have a much better chance of getting Changmin’s attention as a girl. And – a dark longing stirs within him – he kind of wants it, wants to know how it feels to be soft and pretty and lovable.

Heechul’s wand twirls through the air, trailing a shower of sparks.

Tingles spread through Yunho and he gasps. His limbs twist and shrink, bones and muscles reforming into a delicate new shape. It’s a little painful, and he grits his teeth and closes his eyes against the bright light that fills the room.

When it’s over Yunho is trembling and breathless. He unclenches his fists, stumbles to the mirror and stares at himself.

A stunning young woman stares back at him, slender and curvy. His features haven’t changed much, just become more delicate, the curve of his jaw less prominent. Heechul has dressed her in a gown of silver, dark hair pulled back in an elegant bun, the pale curve of her breasts prominent along the neck of the bodice.

Yunho turns to stare at the fairy, still speechless.

“You don’t clean up too bad,” Heechul smiles at him.

Yunho swallows and looks down at the glass slippers encasing his dainty girl feet.

“Okay,” he says, his voice soft and lilting. A surge of confidence rushes through him. “Let’s go to the ball.”

\- - -

 The clock strikes midnight and Yunho’s eyes snap open.

With a gasp, he wrenches himself out of Prince Changmin’s arms and stumbles back. Confused, the Prince blinks at him.

“What is it?” he asks.

Yunho can’t believe he let himself get swept away like this. Dancing with Changmin had been a dream come true, but Heechul had been very specific – stay past midnight and the spell that had turned him into a girl would start to wear off. Already he can feel his dress tightening as his boy shoulders expand beneath it.

Fighting tears, he picks his gown up and starts to run, ignoring the sound of Changmin calling him.

“Wait!” The Prince has followed him out. Yunho pauses on the threshold, fervently glad for the mask obscuring his face. The glass slippers are starting to feel tight as his feet expand back to their normal size.

“At least tell me your name,” Changmin says softly.

Yunho swallows. How can he tell the love of his life he’s not the girl he thinks he is – let alone even a girl?

He shakes his head and runs, and in his haste leaves behind a single glass slipper.

\- - -

_My Dear Changmin,_

_By the time you read this letter I will have fled the country, having no doubt been blamed for the arson of my family home._

_Don’t worry, I made sure my stepfamily woke in time. I would not be that cruel, though they may have deserved it._

_You told me once that privilege is a cage, that you were filled with a longing for things you can never have. At the time I thought your sentiments romantic – now, I find them disappointingly weak._

_Poverty is a cage. Loneliness is a cage. Privilege is no cage; it is an opportunity, an opportunity to use your power and your abilities for the greater good. So be good, my prince. Be kind and just, the way I know you can be, and then maybe one day – you can break yourself free._

_All my love,  
Yunho_


	5. The one where Yunho moves out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suuuuuper old - I may have posted this somewhere at some point? who knows

It gets to the point where people start making snide remarks about how they’re still living together and how weird it looks and why haven’t they found places of their own yet, it’s not like they can’t afford it. Changmin doesn’t pay much attention to it - he stopped caring a long time ago about what other people say about them - but he knows the remarks weigh heavy on Yunho’s mind. Yunho has always cared a little too much about what people think.

So it doesn’t really come as a surprise when a few weeks later Yunho tells him that he’s found a place and that he’s moving out and can Changmin help him pack his things. Changmin glares at him from the couch and can’t even believe he has the nerve to ask.

“No,” he says, turning back to the TV. Yunho’s rummaging behind the bookcase for a sock that’s somehow ended up back there and frowns.

“Don’t be a dick,” he grunts, stretching his arm out and brushing against the back of the bookcase. Changmin lifts his hand in the air and flips him off without bothering to turn around.

“You’re a dick,” he says. “Who cares what people say? I can’t believe you’re giving in to peer pressure.”

“It’s not about that,” Yunho pants. His fingers hook around the corner of the sock and he drags it towards himself. “It’s just time, okay. It doesn’t have to be a big deal - ”

“It is a big deal,” Changmin growls. “Who’s going to take care of you if I’m not around? You’ll probably burn the place down within the first week.”

Yunho extracts his errant sock and stares at it. It’s covered in dust and he quickly drops it back behind the bookcase.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, brushing his hands on his sweatpants, and misses how Changmin grumbles “I won’t,” under his breath.


End file.
